


Foolish Heart

by rachel_exe



Series: Foolish Heart [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Universe, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Wall Sex, bottom jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22161691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachel_exe/pseuds/rachel_exe
Summary: He doesn’t really know how it started, if it was something one of the two did or said, a particularly eloquent glance or a word muttered in a different tone, he just knows that every time they are on the road together, they spend a good portion of the night fucking, and neither of them is really against it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Foolish Heart [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638493
Comments: 168
Kudos: 2118





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! If you came here looking for a plot, you'll probably be disappointed, most of this fic will be porn with eventual feels, nothing too ambitious. It won't be too long either, probably only four chapters, but I'm very excited to write my fist long-ish fic for this fandom!  
> Thanks for giving this smutty fic a chance, and I hope you enjoy :)

The smell of damp earth permeates the air, and the crooning of the night birds fills it with a surprising liveliness. Roach lightly neighs, pawing the ground as the fire creates shapeless shadows on her coat. Jaskier follows them with his eyes, and the more he stares the more a gentle slumber weighs his eyelids down, making it difficult to stay awake. He shifts around, trying to find a more comfortable position on the hard ground and places an arm behind his head.

“Are you going to stay awake all night?” he asks, yawning. 

“I’m not tired yet,” Geralt replies as he warms up next to the fire. It is a beautiful spring night, but both can still feel the last bites of the winter cold. 

“How can you not be? We’ve been on the road all day.” 

“You’re a bard,” the Witcher replies as if that was enough to explain why Jaskier is tired. 

“If you let me on Roach, I wouldn’t be so sleepy in the evenings,” Jaskier retorts. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, right girl?” 

He winks at the horse, and Geralt grimaces. “Don’t ever say that again to Roach, and no, I won’t let you ride her.” 

“Fine, I’ll keep walking on my own feet until one day you’ll turn around and realise I’m not there anymore because I’ve died of exhaustion.” 

Geralt shrugs before taking a sip of his water. 

“So, are you going to sleep or not?” Jaskier says, going back to his original intention. 

“Do you want me to?” Geralt replies, looking at him with a faint grin. 

“Are all Witchers so exasperating or am I just unlucky?” 

“It’s definitely you,” Geralt says but still stands up from the fallen log he is using as a chair. 

He walks to Roach and takes a blanket from one of his bags. He tosses it to Jaskier before patting his hoarse and whispering something to her. 

“What do you keep telling to your horse?” the bard asks as he sets the blanket down. “I swear I’ve never seen you talk as much as when you spill all your secrets to her.” 

“I was assuring her I won’t let you near her,” Geralt replies. 

Jaskier scoffs. “You’re very funny tonight, very funny.” 

Geralt rummages through another bag and after caressing Roach again, he walks near him. His shirt is slightly open, revealing his chest hair and for a moment Jaskier forgets to breathe. Damn Geralt and his stupidly hot body. 

“Are you done with the blanket? I’m starting to feel tired.” 

“Yes,” Jaskier says, clearing his throat. “It’s all set for the night.” 

Geralt nods and lies down on the blanket, immediately turning on his side and using his forearm as a pillow. Jaskier blinks a couple of times, baffled by the Witcher’s fake coldness, but he still slumps down next to him. He is restless, he knows why but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, so he clears his mind and simply moves closer to Geralt. He can feel his heat and smell the familiar scent that he’s grown to like. It’s definitely different from the sweet perfumes and delicate fragrances he is used to, but with Geralt it’s different, and he doesn’t mind if the Witcher doesn’t smell like roses. 

He circles Geralt’s hip with his arm and sneaks his hand down his body, palming him through the trousers. He’s already half hard, but Geralt isn’t that indifferent either, he can feel him grow harder under his palm, and it’s enough to make him sigh approvingly. 

“I thought you were tired,” Geralt simply says. 

“Same goes to you, but you feel very awake down here.” 

Geralt hums and Jaskier slides a leg between Geralt’s as he keeps groping his cock. He doesn’t really know how it started, if it was something one of the two did or said, a particularly eloquent glance or a word muttered in a different tone, he just knows that every time they are on the road together, they spend a good portion of the night fucking, and neither of them is really against it. It is way better than jerking off by themselves, making sure they don’t get caught. 

“And I saw you take the oil from the bag,” he adds, rutting his hips against Geralt’s back. 

Geralt turns his head, the light from the fire illuminating his golden eyes, aroused and wanting. Jaskier bites his bottom lip and squeezes his cock one last time before removing his hand with a smirk. He likes teasing Geralt, hearing him grunt in disappointment and finally give in. 

Geralt pins him to the ground, the vial of oil on the blanket next to them. He isn’t gentle nor patient, their relationship has the sole purpose of satisfying their desires, so Jaskier welcomes the kiss without flinching. He runs his tongue on Geralt’s lips and spreads his legs as the Witcher settles between them. Geralt ruts against him, slowly, the bulge in his trousers pressing against Jaskier’s, sending shocks of arousal down his body. 

Jaskier has been waiting for this moment the whole day, he can’t deny that, but he’s quite sure Geralt has to. His movements aren’t uncaring and even if reading him isn’t always easy, in those moments it is. His cock gets harder and his hands greedier, sliding under Jaskier’s shirt as they kiss. His fingers are cold on Jaskier’s hot skin, callous and rough, but they feel so good Jaskier forgets himself in the moment. 

Jaskier works on Geralt’s shirt too, struggling to take it out of his trousers and when he finally does it, he doesn’t waste time before pulling it over his head. He breaks the kiss and stares at Geralt’s chest, running his hands over the coarse hair and grazing his nipples. As in every other part of Geralt’s body, there are scars there, old and new ones, but they only add to his beauty. 

“I could write thousands of ballads about this,” he says, staring at Geralt’s muscles. “Or maybe this, actually,” he adds, palming the Witcher’s cock. 

Geralt grunts. “I doubt they’ll be any good.” 

“So funny even in bed,” Jaskier snickers. “They would be the best ballads ever written since I’m the composer, and with my voice they-”

Geralt shuts him up with a kiss, rolling his tongue inside his mouth and completely making Jaskier forget what he is talking about. He drinks every moan that wants to leave Jaskier’s lips and starts grinding on him with slow movements that drive Jaskier insane. There are way too many clothes between them and even if Geralt’s tongue feels good, Jaskier breaks the kiss to quickly unlace the Witcher’s trousers and take his cock in his hand. 

“Fuck, you really don’t want me to write a ballad about this?” He gives it a few stokes, spreading the precum on the tip down the entire length, going further down to fondle Geralt’s balls. “God, hurry up.” 

Geralt takes the vial of oil while Jaskier removes his own trousers and underwear. He can’t wait any longer, he’s aching to have Geralt inside of him and reach that pleasure only he can give him. He spreads his legs wide for him, sighs when Geralt’s slick fingers slide past his ring of muscles to work him open. He’s used to them by now, and Geralt knows his body too, so it doesn’t take him long to find the right spot inside of him. 

“Oh, shit, Geralt, right there,” he moans, pushing his hips down on the Witcher’s fingers. 

“These are the sounds I like to hear,” Geralt says and licks a stripe up Jaskier’s neck, sucking his earlobe. 

More moans come from Jaskier, his whole body quivering in pleasure. He holds onto Geralt’s broad shoulders, hiding his hand in his long hair, tugging at it when he feels too close. Geralt has the incredible power of bringing him on the verge of orgasm without much effort, or maybe it is him that doesn’t have enough willpower to hold back. If he has to be honest, he rarely has it when he’s near Geralt, he can’t help but want more, more, more, and Geralt always complies. 

“Geralt, please,” he whines, rocking his hips. 

He feels Geralt’s grin on his ear and the breathy laugh that comes with it. “Always so demanding.” 

“Or maybe I’m just more open about what I want.” 

Geralt shakes his head as he removes his fingers, and for a moment the moonlight shines on his face, illuminating the smile that rarely graces his lips. It is always in the most inappropriate moments that Jaskier’s heart plays tricks on him, making feel things he shouldn’t feel, but once again he’s powerless in front of that sweet emotion everyone sings about. 

He still averts his gaze, afraid of what Geralt would say if he knew and takes a deep breath to calm his beat. He hears some shuffling and the familiar scent of the oil they always use tickles his nostrils, making him even harder. Geralt lifts Jaskier’s hips as he positions himself, looking at him to make sure he’s all good. His sudden care surprised Jaskier the first time, he thought Geralt would be more rough in bed, but he’s used to it now, even though it does very little to calm his foolish heart. 

His fingers twist in the blanket when Geralt pushes inside, but the discomfort lasts only a few seconds before pleasure kicks in and turns the inside of his eyelids into a starry sky. He will never get enough of how good Geralt feels inside of him, of his thick cock spreading his hole so deliciously. He throws his head backwards, uselessly biting his lips to contain his moans, but when Geralt bottoms out, his mouth opens to let the entire woods know he’s having the best time of his life. 

“God, you’re tight,” Geralt grunts, his own voice hoarse. 

Jaskier clenches around him with a wicked grin on his lips. “God, you’re big.” 

He opens his eyes just in time to see Geralt scrunch up his face in pleasure, cock pulsing inside of him. He takes him down to his lips to kiss him, and their tongues glide on each other, bringing moans with them. Geralt starts rocking his hips, pulling back ever so slightly before pushing back inside. Jaskier has to break the kiss to breathe again, but every movement of Geralt’s hips takes all the air out of his lungs. 

He digs his nails in Geralt’s shoulders, adding more marks to his scared back as his body sets on fire. He tries to meet Geralt’s thrusts at first, but he isn’t fast enough nor has enough strength to keep up with the Witcher, so he lets Geralt fuck him as they both like it. He holds him by his hips as he mindlessly pounds into him, harder and faster with every movement, reaching deep inside of him, right where he knows Jaskier likes it the most. 

“Fuck, Geralt, don’t stop.” 

Jaskier's already on the edge, just a few more thrusts and he's ready to let himself go. He tightens around Geralt again, and a shiver runs down his spine. Geralt grunts and he almost bends him in half as he fucks him good, chasing his own orgasm. He hits Jaskier's prostate with every movement, and it only takes the bard a few quick strokes at his own cock to come, thick spurts of cum landing on his shirt. 

Geralt doesn't slow down, but his thrusts get erratic, and his breathing is more laboured. His orgasm washes over him a few moments after Jaskier's, and he lowly moans as he fills the bard from the inside. Jaskier twitches around him, but they're both tired and out of breath, so all he gets is a grunt and a kiss on the neck. 

Jaskier slowly comes down from his high, and the world around him starts coming to life again. Looking around, he is painfully aware of the fact that Roach has been there the whole time, but she has politely turned her back to them; maybe that's what Geralt told her earlier. He can’t help but chuckle at the Witcher's affection for his horse; it's quite cute if he has to be honest. 

"Why are you laughing?" Geralt says, lying on top of him. 

"It's nothing," Jaskier replies. He runs a hand through Geralt's white hair but stops when he realises what he's doing. He clears his throat and hopes Geralt doesn't heart the way his heart is beating. "Are you going to stay there for long? I need to go clean." 

Geralt pulls out of him and sits next to him. "I could help with that." 

"I doubt I would actually get any cleaner that way, but thanks." 

Geralt huffs and has a weird look in his eyes as he stares at Jaskier stand up. If he didn't know better, Jaskier would almost define it as affectionate, caring, but there is no way that's what it is, it must just be the afterglow of his orgasm. 

He can't forget about it as he walks to the river, though, and neither can his heart. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just a quick thank you to everyone that has left a kudo or a comment on the last chapter, and to everyone that has subscribed to this fic, it means a lot to me to know that people are enjoying my writing <3

As soon as they enter the inn, many of the patrons ask Jaskier to sing something for them. They heard about his wonderful singing from the neighbouring villages, and who is Jaskier to decline such a flattering request? So he sings his most popular creation to an attentive audience, some even hum the chorus along with him. His eyes occasionally land on Geralt sat in a corner of the dining hall, eating his dinner by himself like the first time they met.

_O’ Valley of Plenty_

_O’_

  
_Toss a coin to your Witcher_

_A friend of humanity_

Jaskier plays the strings of his lute, and the last notes of his song get overwhelmed by the cheers of the audience, some even tossing him a coin. 

“Thank you, good people,” Jaskier says, stuffing the coins in his pockets. “I’m currently writing a ballad on how well packed our beloved Witcher travels, so keep an hear open for that.” 

He intercepts Geralt’s glare as he says that, but he just grins at him; no one seems to have understood the double meaning of his words anyway. With the coins earned, he buys two beers, and with them in his hands, he walks up to Geralt. 

“How was my performance today?” he asks, sitting across the table. “Still like ordering a pie and finding it empty?” 

“You can well say that,” Geralt replies as he takes a big gulp of his beer. 

“I heard you talking to Yennefer when I was asleep after the djinn incident, I know you didn’t mean to say those words.” 

“You were asleep, you misheard,” Geralt tries to convince him, but even if he looks away, he can’t hide the truth from Jaskier. 

“I’m not mad about it,” Jaskier says. “It would be nice if you actually told me my singing is good, but I’m speaking to Geralt of Rivia, what can I expect?” 

Geralt glares at him. “What do you mean by that?” 

“What do you mean, says Mr. I-won’t-speak-about-my-feelings.” 

“Did you miss the part where they told you Witchers don’t feel anything?” 

“That’s bullshit,” Jaskier scoffs. “And you know it too, you just use it because it’s convenient, you say that and you don’t have to talk about your feelings.” 

Geralt grunts and takes another gulp of his beer. 

“One day I’ll make you spill what you truly think of my singing, you can be sure of that.” 

Jaskier’s dinner finally arrives, and he wolfs down the chicken and vegetables of the house. It’s wonderful to eat some homemade food instead of the usual bread and wild animals they eat on the road, and he doesn’t back away when the waitress asks him if he wants some more. He orders a second beer as well, an even nicer change from the plain water he usually drinks, and he leans back on the chair with his stomach full when his plate is eventually empty. 

“That was good,” he says with a hiccup. “It’s a shame we don’t always have enough money to stay at an inn.” 

“We wouldn’t have enough with what you eat,” Geralt replies, eyeing the empty dishes piled on top of each other. 

Jaskier hiccups again and drinks the last drops of his beer. He looks around the room, eyes casually landing on the costumers until he realises a middle-aged man is already looking at them. His hair is long and dirty, and Jaskier can see a few holes in his trousers and shirt. 

“Someone’s staring at us,” he whispers to Geralt. 

The Witcher frowns and turns his head just enough to glance at the man behind him. He looks at him for just a second, as if he didn’t care about him, but he stands up as soon as he turns around. 

“We’re going to our room,” he says. 

“Wait, what? Why?” Jaskier hurries to follow him. 

“I don’t want troubles.” 

“What troubles? He is just a poor man.” 

Geralt doesn’t reply and leaves the room in a matter of seconds. He goes straight to their room for the night, they haven’t bothered with getting one for each, they don’t need it anyway. Jaskier is still thinking about that man while he climbs the stairs to the second floor, leaving the chatter and clang of dishes behind them. Has Geralt seen something he hasn’t? Is the man secretly a monster that wants to take revenge on Geralt? He really doesn’t know what to think. 

The fire is already on when they enter their room, and Jaskier immediately falls face first on the comfortable bed. 

“This is where I want to spend the rest of my life,” he sighs. “No more hard ground to sleep on during the night.” 

“No one’s forcing you to follow me every day,” Geralt says as he sits on the bed as well. 

“And miss all those adventures? No, thank you.” 

_And miss you?_ he mentally adds. 

“Then stop complaining.” 

Jaskier pouts, looking at Geralt from over his shoulder. “I won’t help you with your bath again if you’re not nicer to me.” 

“I’ll manage even without a bath.” 

“I was joking, please do wash yourself.” 

Geralt lowly chuckles and lies down next to Jaskier. They are close, too close for Jaskier’s heart to calm down. He is enthralled by the gold in Gerald’s eyes, his mark as a Witcher, but they’re so beautiful they only mean one sweet thing for him. He never names it, he doesn’t want to, but he feels it, and that’s enough to make him look away with a shameful blush on his cheeks. 

“And I know a pretty good way to convince you to do something,” Geralt whispers. For as much as he tries, he still needs to work on his seductive voice. 

“And what would that be?” Jaskier asks, looking at him again. 

Geralt holds back a smirk, and his hand travels up Jaskier’s leg, stopping on his ass and groping it. 

“That’s playing dirty.” 

Geralt shrugs and moves his hand between Jaskier’s legs. His touch is firm, and it doesn’t take long before Jaskier is hard. He turns on his back, trousers already tenting, and grabs Geralt by his armour to pull him into a kiss. It is soft and delicate at first, just a taste of what’s about to come, but it still sends shocks of electricity to every part of Jaskier’s body. 

They’re right in the middle of the bed, and Jaskier’s legs are dangling down over the edge, but Geralt settles on top of him anyway. He kisses him with feverish lips, and his hands are soon working to remove the jacket Jaskier is wearing. His movements are more eager than usual, but Jaskier welcomes the hastiness, relishes in the rough touch that makes his heart speed up. As soon as his chest is naked, Geralt runs his tongue down his neck, biting his shoulders before going further down. He closes his lips around Jaskier’s nipple, and Jaskier arches his back to demand more of it. 

“Fuck, Geralt.” 

Jaskier buries his hands in the Witcher’s hair, pulling at it not because he wants Geralt to move away, but because he knows Geralt likes it. His action has the result wanted, and Geralt starts sucking on his nipple, biting it when Jaskier’s hold gets tighter. Jaskier’s trousers are definitely too tight now, and he ruts his hips forward, pleased to feel Geralt’s hard cock on his. 

“That’s enough for today,” he says. “I need you to fuck me right now.” 

With a final lap at his nipple, Geralt looks up at him, a few stray hair falling on his face. His eyes are blown wide, and he has an unusually excited look in them, one that almost makes Jaskier come in his pants. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into the Witcher today, he isn’t usually as eager as he is right now, but he has no intention of complaining about it. 

“Did you take the oil with you?” 

“Yes, it’s in my bag.” Jaskier indicates a corner of the room where he has left his things. 

As Geralt stands up and takes the vial, Jaskier removes his trousers, sighing when his aching cock finally bounces free. 

“Did you find it?” he asks, impatient. 

Geralt rolls his eyes at him. “Yes.” 

When he walks back to the bed, his tight trousers do nothing to hide his arousal. Jaskier briefly wonders how comfortable they are to fight in, but he appreciates the way they show off Geralt’s ass; he is culpable of staring at it for a prolonged amount of time while they are on the road. 

“Are you done ogling?” Geralt says, bringing Jaskier back to reality. 

“Are you done wearing clothes?” 

“I have no idea how your previous partners could stand you,” Geralt replies. “Maybe that’s why you drag me to annoying banquets, not because you need protection from the husbands and fathers.” 

“No one has ever complained because unlike a certain someone, I’m very efficient in bed.” 

“I never hear you complain either,” Geralt grins. “On the contrary, you always seem to enjoy yourself.” 

“You too, so now shush and get on the bed.” 

Geralt grins again but does as Jaskier has requested. The bed dips under his weight, and he’s still wearing too many clothes, so Jaskier takes it upon himself to undress him. As their tongues meet, he removes Geralt’s armour and finally undoes his pants. He palms him through his underwear, groaning when he feels his hard cock, and then pushes the piece of clothing down. He breaks the kiss to look at Geralt’s length, and his own cock twitches with interest at the sight. 

Geralt guides him down on the bed, and this time Jaskier’s head is resting on a pillow, not a very comfortable one, but that’s the last of Jaskier’s thoughts in that moment. Geralt’s lips are always on him as he works him open, playing with his nipples once again, teasing him as much as he can without making him come. There’s nothing Jaskier can do under that touch, nothing he can use to make his body less responsive, but he’s gotten so used to it now, so familiar with it that he can only welcome it. 

His heart sure does as it flies at every brush of Geralt’s fingertips, at every kiss on his skin, no matter how rough. It’s bothersome, really, it adds a bittersweet taste to the moment, making it less pleasurable. It’s been weeks since he has felt this way, and he still hasn’t found a way to forget about it. Jaskier doubts he ever will, and realises that the only way to make the annoying feeling go away would be to leave Geralt, but the thought is soon gone. There’s no way he’d be able to leave the Witcher’s side. 

Jaskier whines when Geralt’s fingers leave him, and he brings Geralt to his lips, rolling his tongue inside the Witcher’s mouth and exploring that known territory once more. He hooks a leg around Geralt’s hips and pushes him forward, so their cocks slide on each other. He drinks the grunt that leaves Geralt’s throat and relishes in their touch, in the feeling of Geralt’s hot cock on his. It’s more of a teasing touch, not at all fulfilling, but he loves it, loves feeling Geralt’s weight on his hips and hearing his muffled moans right in his mouth. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt groans, jerking his hips forward. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Jaskier hums between closed eyelids. 

“It could feel better.” 

Jaskier smirks. “You sure are eager today.” 

Geralt doesn’t reply, he simply kisses him again, catching Jaskier off guard. Jaskier’s eyes shot open, but whatever he wanted to say gets lost when he sees Geralt positioning himself between his cheeks. He swallows, and grips Geralt’s forearms as the Witcher pushes forward. The stretch feels good, and Geralt’s lips on his neck feel even better, biting down on him, leaving marks he won’t even bother hiding tomorrow. 

“Geralt,” he sighs, tightening his grip. Geralt’s muscles are toned and strong, it’s their brutal force that helps Geralt in his fights most of the times, and Jaskier would be lying if he said he wasn’t turned on by them. “You know what I like about inns?” he pants. “That they have walls.” 

Geralt furrows his brows for a second before he understands what Jaskier’s hinting at. He doesn’t even speak as he hauls Jaskier in his arms, cock still buried in Jaskier’s ass, pounding into him as he walks to the wall near the door and presses Jaskier against it. 

“You’re right,” he mutters. “Inns have many perks.” 

Geralt feels so good inside of him that Jaskier doesn’t even have words to reply. He wraps his legs and arms around Geralt, bumping his head against the wall as his body is overwhelmed by pleasure. At every snap of Geralt’s hips his mouth opens to let out sweet moans, and he holds tight onto him as Geralt guides him in and out of his cock. He does it so effortlessly, as if Jaskier didn’t weigh anything that it turns the bard on even more. 

“Fuck, Geralt, yes,” Jaskier groans, pulling the Witcher’s hair. 

Geralt lowly moans, and latches himself to Jaskier’s neck, licking and sucking it as he fucks him. Jaskier closes his eyes, letting his senses take over his mind. He’s already close, but he tries to hold back a little, to let the moment last even a few seconds longer. Pleasure is running through his body, carrying a tender feeling with it. It reaches all his pores, and Jaskier has to bite his bottom lip to keep his secret inside. 

He’s thankful when Geralt captures his lips in a feverish kiss, tongues sloppily meeting and saliva running down his chin. He knows he can’t hold on for much longer, his cock is already leaking profusely and when he touches it, he almost comes immediately. He clenches around Geralt, trying to bring him close to his orgasm too, but all strength is slowly leaving him, and after a few strokes he comes all over himself and Geralt’s chest. 

He blanks out for a moment and realises he’s lying on the bed again only when he feels the soft mattress under his back instead of the hard wall. He slowly opens his eyes, still in a daze, but they shoot open when he trains them on Geralt next to him. 

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” he protests. “Not on my watch.” He swats Geralt’s hand away from his still hard cock. “Give me a minute, and I’ll take care of that.” 

“You’ve just come,” Geralt says, clear impatience in his voice. 

“I can handle it.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“But I want to.” 

Geralt sighs. “You’re impossible.” 

“Admit it that you like it,” Jaskier retorts without even thinking. 

There is a moment when their eyes meet, and Jaskier suddenly realises what he has just said. He opens his mouth to make a funny remark and cover his slip-up, but nothing comes to his mind, so he just stares at Geralt as if he has just killed someone. 

“It’s not the worst of your flaws,” Geralt mutters. 

Jaskier’s eyes open even wider, and his heart doesn’t stop pounding against his chest. He doesn’t know what to make of Geralt’s reply, or better, doesn’t want to admit it sounded too affectionate, too caring for what their relationship is. He doesn’t want to give himself something to hope for, so he looks away as he suppresses his feelings. 

“And what would my worst flaw be?” 

“Your singing,” Geralt grins. 

“And then I’m the one who is impossible?” Jaskier protests, straddling Geralt’s lap. “You’re going to pay for this.” 

He presses his ass on Geralt’s cock, letting it slide between his cheeks. He does his best to hide the fact that he’s horny again, but Geralt isn’t doing much better. His fingers dig in Jaskier’s hips, and his face is scrunched up for the effort of holding back. It’s satisfying, really, and the best solution to forget about what just happened, so Jaskier rocks his hips again, hands firmly pressed on Geralt’s toned chest. 

He bends down to kiss Geralt’s neck, to taste his skin on his tongue, salty from the sweat but so intoxicating because it’s him. His lips trace the edge of Geralt’s jawline, stopping only to circle around the Witcher’s earlobe and bite it. 

“Admit that you like my singing,” he whispers, rutting his hips downwards. 

Geralt grunts, hands going to Jaskier’s ass and squeezing it. He doesn’t speak, and Jaskier suspects it’s because he knows he’s put himself in a cul-de-sac, that the only way to get his release is to confess Jaskier’s voice is a delight. Jaskier grinds on him again, moaning at the sensation of Geralt’s hard cock on his ass. He’s already at half-mast again, and his self-restraint is thinning down at every movement. Maybe he hasn't properly thought this through. 

“I can torture you like this all night,” he lies. “Unless you say my singing is good, that is.” 

Geralt grins at him. “Two can play this game, you know?” 

He wraps his hand around Jaskier’s cock, slowly stroking it, and Jaskier knows he’s already lost. 

“You’re really playing dirty today,” he groans as he thrusts into Geralt’s hand. 

“You started it this time.” 

Jaskier gasps when Geralt tightens his grip, and decides he can leave the topic for another day. He blindly looks for the oil on the bed and pours more of it on Geralt’s cock before sinking down on it. His eyes close for a moment at the feeling, and his body sets on fire, ignited again by the prospect of that blissful pleasure. Geralt’s holding his hips tight, leisurely thrusting into him as his cock vanishes inside of Jaskier. His cheeks are redder than before, and his hair is sticking to his forehead; the sight does weird things to Jaskier’s heart. 

To forget about it, the bard starts moving. He’s slow at first, just little movements to get used to the engulfing feeling again, but they soon get faster, riding Geralt with no restraint. He raises his hips and sits down again with fluidity, taking all of Geralt inside of him every time. He angles his thrusts so that he can hit his prostate and doesn’t stop until his cock starts leaking precum and Geralt’s fingers hurt on his skin. 

He slows down to catch his breath, biting his bottom lip while his orgasms builds again. Geralt’s cock is pulsing, and his hips snap to meet him at every thrusts with increasing impatience. He’s close too this time, and in his eyes there is a needy light that Jaskier can’t ignore. He clenches around him, standing up again before sinking down, and in a matter of seconds Geralt spills himself inside of him. 

He rides him through his orgasm, feeling his cock throb in his ass. The sensation is overwhelming, and Jaskier is soon coming as well, his own cum landing on Geralt’s chest and neck. He’s completely out of strength this time, and he simply slumps on the Witcher, uncaring of the dirt on him. Geralt welcomes him between his arms, lazily rubbing his back as Jaskier comes to his senses. It’s intimate and delicate, his rough fingertips leave goosebumps on Jaskier’s skin and an unsettling warmth in his chest. 

Jaskier rolls down on the bed and doesn’t move for a while as he tries to compose himself. Geralt is quiet too, but he doesn’t sleep, he’s looking at a point on ceiling, lost in his own thoughts. Jaskier can’t help but think he looks really good from this angle. 

Their peace doesn’t last long, however, and when it’s way too late for anyone to still be awake, there is a knock on the door. Jaskier has been falling in and out of sleep for a while, but he’s now completely awake and frowns when Geralt stands up from the bed. The Witcher quickly puts his trousers and shirt back on, but part of his chest is still visible, along with the cum left on it. Jaskier wants to tell him to clean himself before going out, but it’s too late, he has already opened the door. 

It’s the same poor man from dinner. He is twisting his hat between his hands, and only spares Jaskier a glance. He doesn’t seem bothered by the sight, but when he looks at him more closely, Jaskier suspects he has worse things to be worried about. 

“I didn’t mean to disturb you, but I have a favour to ask,” he says in a feeble voice. “A job for you.” 

“Whatever it is, I won’t do it,” Geralt replies. 

“Please, I need your help,” the man stops him, almost in a panic. “A monster has been ruining my crops for weeks now, we have nothing to eat, I have no food for my children and wife.” 

Geralt is silent as he looks at the man. 

“I don’t have much, but I’ll give you whatever you want,” the poor man continues. “I need your help, I’ve placed traps and tried to ambush it, but there’s nothing I can do.” 

Geralt hums and his shoulders slump down as he sighs. “Tell me where.” 

“Thank you so much, Witcher,” the man replies with a more cheerful voice. “A few miles from here there’s a farm, there’s where I live with my family, and my fields are just around the house.” 

“Wait for me tomorrow evening.” 

“Thank you so much again.” 

Geralt grunts and nods before closing the door. “Not a word about this.” 

“I wasn’t planning on saying anything,” Jaskier replies. He has closely followed the exchange and had no doubt Geralt would accept the man’s request. That’s how Geralt is, and as the Witcher lies down next to him again, his foolish heart yearns for him a little bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toss a comment to your writer? Feedback is always appreciated :)  
> [ Tumblr ](https://geraskier-hell.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for patiently waiting for me to update this fic! As you can see, the next chapter will be the last one, unfortunately, but I hope it won't take me this long to post it, for now please enjoy this smol chapter (with no smut????)

The sun is slowly hiding behind the horizon, and the air is getting chillier as they venture further into the countryside. Jaskier is more than happy about the change in the temperature, he has been walking behind Geralt for far too long, struggling to keep up with Roach's pace, and a few beads of sweat make their appearance on his forehead. They left the cosy inn a bit after lunch, but there is still no sign of the house they are looking for.

"Do you think it's going to take us much longer to get to the farm?" Jaskier pants. 

"It won't be long now," Geralt replies as he guides Roach down the grassy path. 

"I sure hope so." Jaskier takes a deep breath. "What beast do you think we will fight?" 

" _I_ will fight," Geralt corrects him. 

"Yes, yes, you." 

"It could be many things, I can't say for sure until we're there, but I doubt it'll be friendly." 

"When are those monsters ever friendly?" Jaskier mutters, shuddering at the memories of his past encounters with their enemies. 

"You could have stayed at the inn." 

"I promise I won't be in the way," Jaskier retorts. "Plus that man looked very desperate yesterday, I want to help him too." 

Geralt grunts as he looks at the horizon. 

"You don't want to help him?" 

"I don't want to get involved." 

"Except you do, every time for what I recall." 

Geralt turns his head to glare at him before looking at the road again. "I hoped he wasn’t going to bother us after hearing you." 

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but my singing always draws people to me," Jaskier proudly says. 

"That's not what I meant." 

Jaskier furrows his brow. "What are you saying then?" 

"I'm sure you remember what we were doing when he knocked on our door." 

Jaskier gasps, stopping in his tracks. He gapes a few times in disbelief, anger and embarrassment crossing over his face. 

"Is that why you were so into it yesterday?" he almost yells. 

Geralt hums while he nonchalantly guides Roach down a different path. 

Jaskier runs after him as he continues, "So you're telling me the man waited for us to finish before knocking?" 

"He was very persistent." 

"I… I have no words." 

"Good." 

Jaskier is pensive for a while before saying, “I mean, he probably enjoyed it.” 

“Didn’t you say you had no words?” Geralt remarks. 

“I’m just saying he stayed outside our room, listening to what we were doing for so long. He must have enjoyed it otherwise he would have left.” 

“I didn’t know you had a thing for that.” 

“Huh, me neither.” 

Geralt huffs, but Jaskier could swear he does it to hide his amusement. His own lips curl, and he follows behind Roach while they get deeper into the countryside. There are small blue bells and dandelions on the sides of the road that Jaskier admires with poetic eyes. He starts humming new melodies as he walks, coming up with new lines about his past lovers and glancing at Geralt every once in a while, when his inspiration is particularly dry. 

As the sun disappears from the sky, they finally see a farm in the distance and some cultivated fields near it. 

“That must be it,” Jaskier says, already inspecting the zone for signs of a beastly presence. 

Geralt hums but keeps the same pace as he too looks around the area. As they are approaching the farm, Roach neighs, stopping in her tracks. Geralt coos her and manages to calm her down enough to get to the entrance of the house where he ties her up on a wooden bar. There is a dim light coming from one of the windows, and Jaskier sees two shadows move before the door opens. 

“It’s the Witcher,” the man from the night before tells someone. “Thank you for coming,” he addresses Geralt. 

“Tell me about this beast,” Geralt cuts the small talk. 

A woman appears behind the man, her grey hair is tied in a bun and the colour of her dress has washed off, its hem worn-out and faded. 

“It appeared last month,” she says in a clear voice. “It keeps destroying our crops. For now it’s not a problem since the weather has been kind these days, but we live far away from the village, so getting food isn't always easy and we need our crops to survive.” 

“Our son sends us what he can, but he has a wife and children to take care of,” the husband says. “I’ve tried to track it down, but my sight isn’t as good as it used to be.” 

“So you’ve never seen it,” Geralt points out. 

“No, it usually comes out when it’s dark and we’re asleep.” 

Geralt nods and scrutinises the area. Jaskier does the same, a chill running down his spine as he looks into the forest nearby. It’s almost like someone’s watching them, he can feel their eyes boring holes on his back, and for a moment he considers staying inside the house with the old couple. 

“Do you keep animals as well?” Geralt asks. 

“Yes, we have a cow and a horse,” the woman explains. “We always lock them for the night, and the beast has never broken the lock.” 

Geralt nods. “You two stay inside,” he says to the husband and wife. “I’ll be back once I’ve dealt with whatever this is.” 

“What about me?” Jaskier asks, offended he wasn’t included in the plans. 

“Do what you want, just don’t be in the way.” 

“I’ll be in a corner, taking notes for my next song.” 

“In a safe corner,” Geralt warns him, his golden eyes fixed on Jaskier’s. 

“When you say it like this, it’s almost like you actually care about me.” 

“I won’t save your ass this time as well.” 

“You did it only once,” Jaskier protests. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” 

Geralt grunts, and the farmers chuckle, exchanging an eloquent glance. 

“We’ll be waiting for you in the house then,” the man says, and thanks Geralt once more before closing the door. 

“What do you think it is?” Jaskier asks again as they walk towards the fields. 

“I don’t think it’s too strong since it isn’t able to open the stable, but then again, it might not feed on meat.” 

“A vegetarian demon,” Jaskier says, surprised. “Who would have thought?” 

“We don’t know if it’s a demon or not,” Geralt retorts, kneeling down to look at some prints. 

Jaskier looks at them from over the Witcher’s shoulders, but it’s too dark now for him to see anything, so he crouches down as well. His shoulder brushes against Geralt’s, and he can smell Roach on him but also the soap he used in the morning at Jaskier’s request. His brows are slightly furrowed as he analyses the ground, a determined light in his beautiful eyes. Jaskier’s heart is playing tricks on him, but he can’t look away, can’t avert his gaze to safer sights; he relishes in the moment, and he completely forgets about the reason why they’re there in the first place. 

“I don’t think it’s a demon.” Geralt’s voice comes to take Jaskier away from his daydream, but the bard doesn’t look away quickly enough, and Geralt’s eyes meet his; they're so close his cheeks heat up. 

“That’s good,” he mutters, standing up. “Should we wait here?” 

Geralt turns his head, confusion still in his eyes, but he stands as well and searches the area again. 

“No, we go into the forest and see if we can catch it off guard.” 

“You first.” Jaskier gestures for Geralt to start walking. 

Geralt is still frowning, and this time Jaskier actually looks away. He can still remember Geralt’s soft touch the previous night, his calloused fingers on his skin, and the warmth they brought to his chest. He tries to push all that to the side, to simply enjoy his adventure with Geralt as he used to do, but there’s still an uncomfortable tug in his stomach, a small thorn in his heart tormenting him. 

Geralt walks to the edge of the forest, his steps are careful and his eyes are always moving. Jaskier follows with the thrill of a new adventure pushing him forward and a new ballad forming in his mind. They reach the first trees, and Jaskier can barely see a foot ahead of him. It's too dark for his eyes, and the moon rays are unable to breach through the thick vegetation, making it easy for him to trip over the fallen branches. 

Geralt seems to be following some invisible tracks, and sometimes he kneels to inspect the ground again. There are no abnormal sounds around them, just the howling of the night birds and the rare calling of foxes. Jaskier is already wondering whether they’ll find their beast or not when something moves in the bushes next to them. Geralt's head whips at the noise, and Jaskier is paralysed as steps resound around them. Is it really a demon? 

“Quiet,” Geralt whispers as he walks in front of him. 

His hands are on his sword, and he is as silent as a cat while he steps on the fallen leaves. Jaskier stays where he is and takes a piece of paper and a quill out of his bag to document what’s happening for future reference. He is obviously going to sing about the time Geralt saved a lovely old couple from an evil demon. 

His hand is quick as he scribbles how Geralt approaches the bush, he can’t really see his expression, but he catches the shine of the sword when the Witcher draws it. More rustling comes from the bush, and excitement and fear mix inside of Jaskier, making him lean forward a little bit as Geralt stops in front of the source of their worries. There is a loud grunt, and then a dark shadow comes rushing out of the vegetation, going past Geralt and towards Jaskier. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier yelps. 

He starts running, throwing his quill and paper on the ground, survival instinct kicking in. In the haste of the moment he has turned around, so he doesn’t know where he is going and the lack of light only makes things worse. He trips over a root, but after a bit of stumbling he is able to continue his run. He turns around but can’t see anything, he can only hear grunts and huffs behind him. He doesn’t see Geralt either, and he groans, wondering where he is. 

A few feet in front of him a rock stands in a high ground, and Jaskier dashes towards it, climbing up it with his heart in his throat. The dark shadow runs past him, hiding in yet another bush, so Jaskier finally takes a deep breath, adrenaline still running in his veins. He feels a lot safer here, and it didn’t look like the thing could fly, so as long as he has the higher ground, he should be fine. 

He finally sees Geralt and he huffs, hands on his hips. 

“Took you long enough,” he says. “Thankfully I’m a good runner.” 

“Where did the animal go?” the Witcher asks, looking around. 

“It disappeared in the bushes again, it probably gave up.” 

“I doubt it.” 

“Nah, we’re fine,” Jaskier replies, jumping down the rock. “It ran away, I can’t hear it anymore.” 

Just as he was saying that, the black figure from before comes running out of the vegetation again, but there’s nothing the bard can do. He turns only in time to see a big boar madly running towards him before the animal crashes into him, making him lose his stability. He falls down, head hitting the rock and his vision goes suddenly black. The last thing he hears before passing out is Geralt cursing under his breath. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toss a comment to your writer! <3  
> [ Tumblr ](https://geraskier-hell.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here's the last chapter of this very smutty fic! Thank you so much to everyone that has read and commented on it, this is my second work in the geraskier fandom and it has been a wonderful ride from start to finish, you've all been so nice to me ;-;   
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter, don't worry, the smut is back ;)

Jaskier wakes up in an unknown room with exposed beams and a rather uncomfortable bed. The only source of light is a candle on his nightstand, and as he looks around him, eyes slowly adjusting to his surroundings, he notices a dark figure sitting near his bed.

“You can take everything I have, but please leave the lute,” he pleads, covering himself with the blanket. 

“Calm down, it’s me,” Geralt's voice comes from the darkness. 

“Geralt! Why are you being all creepy like that?” Jaskier tries to sit up, but a throbbing in his head makes him stop. “Ouch.” 

“That’s why I told you to calm down, you hit your head.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Jaskier says as he remembers the fight with the boar. “Where are we?” 

“In the farmers’ attic,” Geralt explains. “I brought you here after you passed out and the woman made this bed for you to rest.” 

“What happened to the boar? Did you kill him?” 

Geralt hesitates a bit before replying, “No, he hid again after you fell and I didn’t chase after him.” 

“Are we staying here another day so you can kill it?” Jaskier asks, feeling sorry for the wild animal. 

“No,” Geralt sighs. “The couple decided to adopt it.” 

“Really?” 

Geralt grunts. “This is why I never want to get involved, people call me for the stupidest shit.” 

“But they would have never found out it was a boar without you.” 

“That’s not enough to make up for a lost day,” Geralt says. “And for you getting hurt.” 

Geralt’s voice is softer as he says that, and it takes Jaskier off guard. He doesn’t know how to react to it, whether to take it seriously or joke about it. There are many implications behind Geralt’s words, some more hopeful than others, but Jaskier doesn’t want to trust his heart, foolishly pounding in his chest. 

“I feel fine now,” he mutters. 

“Why do you keep following me around when you can’t even defend yourself?” Geralt hisses. 

Jaskier can’t see his face and his tone surprises him. Geralt sounds angry, ready to leave him behind for good, but there’s something more to it, a feeling Jaskier can’t pin. 

“Because I like being around you and go on adventures with you,” he honestly replies. 

“This is ridiculous, I’m leaving you at the inn tomorrow, you can go back to your hometown by yourself.” 

“Where does this come from? I thought we were a good team.” 

“We’re not a team,” Geralt says through gritted teeth. “And I’m tired of saving your ass every damn time.” 

“I don’t want to leave you,” Jaskier mutters, chest already tightening at the thought. 

“Why? Are your stupid songs so important you don’t care about your own life?” 

“Don’t you dare call my songs stupid,” Jaskier exclaims. “And I’d love to stay away from your brooding charm and stupid muscles, but I can’t, it hurts even just to think about it, so I’m going to follow you whether you like it or not.” 

Geralt is silent and the goddamn candle light isn’t letting Jaskier see his face; he can just hear his breathing, regular as always. He’s afraid of what Geralt might say now that he has spilled the truth, and the prolonged silence is too heavy and uncomfortable for him to handle. 

“Yes, you’ve heard right,” he says as if accusing Geralt of some crime. “I can’t be without you, and I don’t even know why myself. I basically have to force you into the bath every time, and you always make me walk while you ride Roach, leaving me to struggle behind you without a care. And you’re not even chatty or funny, you just sit there with those annoyingly beautiful eyes and white hair, glaring at everyone as if you hated the entire world and I-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupts him. “Shut up.” 

“And I can’t help but be drawn to it,” Jaskier quickly finishes his thoughts. 

“You know you’re annoying, right?” Geralt says, but he isn’t angry anymore, it almost sounds like he’s relieved. “And so bad at fighting, it’s like walking around with a baby. You never shut up, not even in your sleep, did you know that you talk in your sleep? You do, so fucking much, and sometimes you even sing, which doesn’t annoy me as much as it should, but it bothers me when I don’t hear it, when I don’t hear _you_ , I catch myself looking for you when you’re not with me and I… I don’t want you to follow me anymore because I can’t bear the thought that something might happen to you.” 

Jaskier is silent, once again taken aback by Geralt’s outburst. His heart doesn’t stop hoping and the witcher’s words keep playing in his mind. 

“I…” he starts, struggling to find the right thing to say. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk so much.” Why the fuck is that the first thing that comes to his mind? “Sorry, that’s not what I meant to say, well, yes, actually, but I should have said it later, not when we’re having this conversation.” 

A low chuckle comes from Geralt, so quiet Jaskier thinks his mind is playing tricks on him. 

“Please, come to bed,” he says. “I want to see you.” 

A chair creaks and Geralt’s figure is finally illuminated by the candle light. He doesn’t look pissed or mad, his brows aren’t furrowed nor are his lip set in a stern line. He looks content as he sits on the bed, his golden eyes shining in the dim light. 

“I won’t let you leave me behind,” Jaskier tells him. “I’ll follow you wherever you go, and not just because I need new material for my songs, but because I like you.” 

“Where I go is no place for a bard,” Geralt replies. 

“I may not know how to fight, but I can do other things, like actually talking to people to know more about what we’re fighting, get us somewhere to stay with my singing, talk you out of bad decisions, help you through the tough times. See? I don’t need to fight to be useful.” 

“You’ll get hurt again.” 

“I’d get more hurt if I stayed behind,” Jaskier murmurs. 

“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” Geralt sighs. 

“Not my worst flaw, though.” 

Geralt has a small grin on his lips as he replies, “You’re right, your singing is still number one.” 

“And you’re still as bad at expressing your true feelings as always.” 

“You talk enough for both of us.” 

Without a warning, Geralt places his hand on Jaskier’s and leans forward to bring their lips together. Jaskier stills under his touch, brain unable to process what is going on or how things have ended up like this. He was sure Geralt would have found an excuse to push him away again, but the kiss doesn’t taste like a goodbye, it’s sweet and soft, no desperation in it, no I-will-never-see-you-again feeling to it. 

He cups Geralt’s face as he kisses him back. His head is spinning, but he’s pretty sure it’s not due to his injury. Geralt’s taking all his breath away, emptying his lungs but filling his heart of an overwhelming joy that rapidly spreads through his entire body, warming it up from the inside. 

He can’t get enough of Geralt, of his touch and lips, and he kisses him harder, hands slowly hiding in his white hair as he holds the witcher close. Geralt's own hands wrap around Jaskier’s waist, and his lips get greedier, stealing more and more kisses until Jaskier finally opens his mouth and their tongues meet, hungry and needy. A low moan resounds from Jaskier’s throat, and he starts taking Geralt down onto the bed, injury already forgotten. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt grunts on his lips. 

Jaskier shuts him up with more kisses, hands fumbling to remove his armour. He needs to feel Geralt’s warmth on him, his bare skin plastered to his body, scars and all, and map it all out as he has always wanted. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt says, firmly pushing the bard away. “You’re hurt.” 

“I’m good,” Jaskier pants. “We can fuck.” 

Geralt blankly stares at him, lips curved in a disappointed expression. “You’re hurt.” 

“Well, in my very humble opinion you should take care of me, do things that will make me feel better.” 

“I don’t even know why I argue with you anymore,” Geralt huffs. 

“Exactly, you already know I’m right, so stop talking and kiss me.” 

Geralt rolls his eyes, but there is a little smirk on his lips when he leans forward to do as Jaskier asked. Jaskier holds him close to himself, never wanting to let go of him, and replies to his kisses one by one, taking and giving the affection he has been craving for. Geralt is more tender than usual, and when he moves down to Jaskier’s neck, his touch is soft, feather-like, as if he has taken Jaskier’s request to heart. 

He pulls down the covers and removes Jaskier’s shirt before kissing down his chest, lips lighting small fires on the bard’s skin. He undoes Jaskier’s trousers too, and Jaskier doesn’t do anything to repress the whine that leaves his throat. He bites his bottom lip as he expectantly waits for Geralt to run his tongue on him. His hands tug at Geralt's hair and a low growl resounds from the witcher before he looks up at him with an aroused light in his eyes that dries Jaskier’s mouth. 

Geralt's tongue finally darts out to lick Jaskier’s cock, and all the bard can do is to hold on to Geralt’s hair as his body is taken over by pleasure. He twists the blankets, hips jerking upwards to urge Geralt on, and loudly moans when Geralt’s wet mouth finally closes around him. His eyes shut and his grip tightens while Geralt takes him high again. He knows he won’t last long with the way Geralt’s tongue is running on his cock, but he still tries to hold on a bit longer, relishing in that hot embrace. 

Geralt’s lips circle his tip and suck it before taking him down his mouth again. Jaskier’s cock hits the roof of his mouth, and a groan leaves him like a broken cry. Jaskier is already too far gone, he knows he should try to prolong the moment, but he feels his orgasm build inside him and he doesn’t have the strength to fight it. As Geralt keeps sucking him off, he pulls hard at his hair and his hips snap forward, fucking into Geralt’s mouth before he comes down his throat. The witcher drinks every last drop of his cum, cleaning his tip with his tongue when Jaskier is done. 

"You should do this more often," Jaskier pants as he catches his breath. 

Geralt lies next to him. "Maybe this way you'll last longer." 

"This means I'll get to come twice, so I'm not even going to get mad for you've said." 

Geralt huffs, hand snaking around Jaskier's waist. 

"The oil is in my bag, by the way," Jaskier says, ready to keep things going. 

Geralt turns his head to kiss him, tongue sliding in Jaskier's mouth. "I already knew." 

He stands up, leaving Jaskier wanting more. His figure disappears in the darkness outside the candle light, but Jaskier can hear him rummage through his bag along with the sound of his own heart, pounding against his chest. He grins to himself like an idiot, and when Geralt goes back to him, his mouth opens wider as he pulls him in a deep kiss. 

With his lips never leaving Jaskier’s body, Geralt works him open. His touch is rough but careful, his kisses soft on Jaskier’s hot skin, covering it of goosebumps. There is a subtle tenderness in all his movements that is different from his usual behaviour, but that reminds Jaskier of his caresses in their post-orgasmic bliss, and he relishes in it, feels it in his entire body without being scared. There is no need now, he doesn’t have to hide anymore, and he can call Geralt's name with a sweeter tone in his voice, hands softly running through his hair. 

He pulls Geralt into a kiss again, lips easily slotting together with equal hunger. They share kisses and moans when Jaskier palms Geralt’s erection through his trousers. The bard hurriedly pushes them down as he still tries to kiss Geralt, needing to have him inside but not wanting to let their mouths part. After some struggling and a lot of help from Geralt, he finally frees Geralt’s cock, hot and wet on his own. 

“Geralt,” he moans on his lips. 

Geralt replies with a groan and another greedy kiss. “Don’t be loud, there’s people downstairs.” 

“If the wife is anything like the husband, she’ll enjoy hearing this too.” 

Geralt huffs, a small grin on his lips that is almost invisible in the faint light but that still makes Jaskier’s heart skip a beat. He kisses him again, slowly this time and Geralt eases into him, his thick cock stretching him just how he likes it. He drinks all the grunts that come from the witcher, mixing some of his own with them until he’s so full he needs to break their kiss to breathe. 

“Fuck,” he gasps before biting his lip to muffle a moan. 

He finally removes Geralt’s armour and digs his nails in his shoulders as he lets his body follow the witcher’s movements, slow and careful at first, but faster and harder as they both get overwhelmed by desire. Geralt kisses his neck, biting down on it and licking the marks he has left. His hips jerk forward, and this time Jaskier isn’t able to hold back his strained cry. He doesn’t even want to, doesn’t care about who hears how Geralt slowly takes him apart, one thrust after another until he’s completely gone. 

Their tongues meet in a messy kiss, all saliva and teeth mingling with their groans. Jaskier is already too far gone, cock hard and leaking precum on his stomach. He remembers what Geralt has said about holding on for longer, but his willpower lasts a total of two seconds as Geralt hits his prostate and his orgasm starts to build. He clenches around the witcher, smirking when Geralt stutters and his grunts are louder than before. He wraps his hand around his cock and strokes himself as Geralt fucks him harder, pushing him against the wall behind them. 

“Geralt,” he cries out as a meek warning. 

He’s so close his whole body is on fire. He digs his nails harder in Geralt’s shoulders and he meets his brutal thrusts as best as he can, energy already seeping away from him. Geralt licks his neck, biting down on it again, and Jaskier is suddenly spilling himself in his hand, cum landing on his stomach in thick spurts. Geralt fucks him through it, hitting his prostate every time until he’s coming too, cock throbbing as he empties himself inside of Jaskier. 

They’re both sweaty and out of breath afterwards, but neither of them cares as they lie next to each other, boneless and satisfied. Geralt’s fingers ghost over Jaskier’s side, nose nuzzling his hair as he holds him close. For the first time Jaskier doesn’t curse his heart, instead he cherishes the sweet feeling that blooms in it, letting it travel through his veins and reach his entire body. 

  
  
They leave early in the morning after saying goodbye to the couple of farmers. They don’t mention anything about the previous night, but their smirks speak for them. Fucking has left more marks on Jaskier than the boar, and he groans at the idea of having to walk behind Roach the whole day. He drags his feet as they leave the farm, sleep rendering him quieter than usual. 

Geralt side-eyes him until they’re on the grassy road. “What’s wrong?” he then says. 

“Nothing, I’m just thrilled I get to walk on this beautiful day,” Jaskier remarks. 

Geralt hops on Roach with an amused smirk on his lips, and Jaskier is about to give him a piece of his mind when he speaks again, “You can ride with me.” 

Jaskier’s eyes open wide and his heart jumps in his chest as if Geralt had just confessed his eternal love to him. He hurries next to Roach, and fondly caresses her coat. 

“Who’s also my good girl now?” he coos. 

“Don’t talk to my horse like that,” Geralt grunts. 

“Why not? You talk to her too.” Jaskier moves to the back and easily climbs on Roach. “And she has to get used to me, I’m never leaving you two now.” 

He wraps his hands around Geralt's waist, earning himself a grunt. 

“We’ll see about that.” 

“Aye, aye,” he replies, kissing Geralt's cheek as they ride towards a new adventure together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you so much for reading, and don't forget to toss a comment to your writer <33  
> [ Tumblr ](https://geraskier-hell.tumblr.com/)  
> p.s. I always forget to say this, but feel free to let me know if you catch any typos!


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